The ideal me always picks up on my baby’s tired signals. The real me too often gets trapped in a cycle of overtired comfort feeding and unsettled burping.
The ideal me always smiles a morning hello even on broken sleep. The real me wakes up with a slow wrench and then a jolt, and fumbles to pick up the grizzly hungry baby before he gets even more upset.
The ideal me is ever loving and giving of attention. The real me sometimes leaves bubs under his mobile even when I know he’s gotten bored of it, because five minutes peace, please, please.
The ideal me thinks, right bubs asleep: put him in his crib, eat something, do some chores, have a nap. The real me thinks, oh, it’s nice having him sleep on me, I’ll just sit here a minute and cuddle him and browse the internet…damn, where did that hour go?